It is an amiable part of human nature, that we should love our animals; it is even better to love them to the point of folly, than not to love them at all.

If there wasn't death, I think you couldn't go on.

My Muse sits forlorn She wishes she had not been born She sits in the cold No word she says is ever told.

Death's not a separation or alteration or parting; it's just a one-handled door.

You must have some money if you are going to live simply. It need not be much, but you must have some.

This Englishwoman is so refined, She has no bosom and no behind.

Truth is far and flat, and fancy is fiery; and truth is cold, and people feel the cold, and they may wrap themselves against it in fancies that are fiery, but they should not call them facts; and, generally, poets do not; they are shrewd, they feel the cold, too, but they know a hawk from a handsaw, a fact from a fancy, as none knows better.